


The Pursuit of Happiness

by UrsulaAngstrom



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:10:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7330792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsulaAngstrom/pseuds/UrsulaAngstrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The following story was written in honor of the First International Day of Slash, celebrated on July 1st, 2003.  I am sharing it again to celebrate International Day of Slash in 2016 and also the International Day of the Kiss on July 6th and Independence Day in the U.S. on July 4th.</p>
<p>The story was originally shared under the pen name Larkspur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pursuit of Happiness

The Pursuit of Happiness

By Ursula Angstrom

A hot tip from a reliable informant canceled their holiday plans at the last minute. Dobey needed every man on the stakeout so they wouldn't be able to spend the 4th of July weekend camping in the mountains like they'd planned. 

Starsky wasn't disappointed in the least, but Hutch was. So Starsky immediately started thinking of ideas to cheer up his sulking partner. 

July 4th was Hutch's favorite holiday. Blondie really had his heart set on leaving Bay City and communing with nature for a few days, because Independence Day was one of two holidays Hutch could celebrate with genuine enthusiasm. July 4th commemorated lots of things Hutch believed in, and the only thing he was obligated to do was eat picnic food and watch fireworks displays. There weren't many "low maintenance" holidays, so Hutch always looked forward to celebrating Independence Day. 

Hutch celebrated St. Patrick's Day too because it was the only holiday that had a lower "obligation quotient" than July 4th.

"We can pack a picnic lunch and stow it in a few coolers," Starsky suggested trying to cheer Hutch up after Dobey broke the bad news to them.

"Yeah, but we won't be able to see any fireworks where we're going to be unless someone starts shooting at us," Hutch complained.

When Hutch got dour and macabre like that it meant Blondie was seriously bummed out. Starsky knew Hutch was disappointed, but he didn't realized HOW disappointed his partner was until he made that wisecrack. Hutch thought gallows humor was funny, but Starsky was superstitious. Comments like that gave him the willies; because he'd been raised to believe that smart ass remarks like that tempted Fate to retaliate. So he reached into his desk drawer, opened a carryout package of salt and threw the contents over his left shoulder. Then he tossed one to Hutch as they sat facing each other in the squad room.

Hutch just laughed and tossed the whole package of salt--unopened--over his shoulder. It landed on Don Reynolds’ desk.

"Hey!" Don objected, because the tiny paper missile startled him when it landed on his desk blotter. "Keep your condiments to yourself!"

As Don turned around and tossed the paper packet of salt over Hutch's head at Starsky, Hutchinson chuckled and said, "Be glad he didn't throw garlic."

Ignoring Reynolds’ disapproving scowl, Starsky and Hutch left the squad room smiling; which was all that mattered to Starsky. His antics had the desired effect on Hutch, because those baby blues were sparkling again. Hutch started humming Stevie Wonder's song Superstition just to tease him as they left to patrol their beat in the Torino…

****************************************************************************************************

It didn't take Starsky long to think of something that would cheer Hutch up and make the 4th of July holiday special and memorable. All it took was a visit to Santa's Sex Shoppe to check out their Christmas In July specials.

Hutch is going to love this! Starsky thought with glee, as he walked out of the most infamous store in L.A. in one of his best disguises. No one would have recognized the sexy cop in his Old Man attire. The gray wig, thick glasses, brown contact lenses, false beard and mustache, old baggy clothes and fake beer belly paunch completely changed Starsky's robust, virile appearance. 

Starsky was one of Mr. Wen's favorite customers. But the Chinese proprietor of the x-rated book store and gift shop had no idea who he really was. It would not do Starsky's career one iota of good to be caught in such a place looking like himself, so he always disguised himself as Old Man Klein before he went shopping there. 

His disguise was so good it even fooled Huggy Bear!

One day, about eight months ago, Starsky went shopping at Santa's Sex Shoppe and found Huggy Bear browsing in the aisles. Later, at The Pits, Starsky had a blast teasing Huggy about all the clandestine purchases he'd watched his friend make while he was undercover. They'd passed each other in the aisles several times and Huggy never once realized it was him under the Old Man Klein disguise.

When Starsky pretended to be Old Man Klein he walked with a limp and browsed the aisles using a walker that had a homemade pouch attached to the front of it so he could tuck his purchases into it like an improvised shopping bag. Inconspicuous he was not, but no one ever made him as a cop. Mr. Wen and the clerks called him Mr. K--which stood for Mr. Kangaroo and Mr. Klein. The clerks called him Mr. Klein to his face, but he'd heard them call him Mr. Kangaroo behind his back when he overheard them whispering in the aisles one day. The clerks gave him that nickname because of the pouch attached to his walker.

When they asked him what his first name was Starsky wanted to say Wally, but he knew that would just make them suspicious since wallaby was another name for kangaroo. So he told them his name was Irving and asked them to call him Irv, but they never did. Mr. Wen wouldn't let the clerks call him by his first name since he thought Mr. Klein was older than he was. Calling an elder by their first name was considered a disrespectful thing to do in his culture, so he forbade anyone to violate that social taboo.

Imitating his Uncle Nate, Starsky affected a thick Polish accent when he talked to Mr. Wen and his clerks. His voice was unrecognizable to anyone but Hutch.

Dong Wen was always eager to show Mr. Klein his latest inventions. The man was a true genius when it came to inventing clever and provocative sex toys and marketing gimmicks. Starsky was glad he didn't have to wait very long to give Hutch his present. 

****************************************************************************************************

Starsky was so excited he had no trouble waking up before Hutch for a change. The only time he woke up before his early bird blond was on Christmas morning--and any other morning when was planning to give Hutch a Sunrise Surprise.

Hutch was an outdoorsman who'd spent summers at his grandparent's farm when he was a kid growing up in Minnesota. He liked getting up at dawn when the rooster crowed and Starsky often wanted to shoot the rooster Hutch still seemed to hear in his sleep because those early riser habits meant Starsky woke up to an empty bed most mornings.

But not today!

The sun wasn't up yet so Hutch was still sleeping. 

Watching Hutch sleep was one of life's special pleasures. Night or day Hutch looked like a sunbeam wherever he went. Nestled in the black silk sheets, Hutch looked like a living treasure brought to him as if by magic as he slept beneath the skylight under a full and benevolent Moon.

At moments like this Starsky felt blessed. Even in darkness, illuminated only by the last traces of moonlight, Hutch glowed like a solar flare. His lover's creamy golden skin was soft as satin as it rippled over muscles that were as hard as coiled steel. Blond hair glinting like fireflies in the distance, Hutch inspired desire so pure and incandescent Starsky felt like he was glowing from within too.

When they slept, their bodies tended to curl around each other like kittens nestled in a padded wicker basket. If Hutch wasn't spooning him from behind, Starsky was cuddling his partner like he was doing now--Hutch's fair head nestled in the crook of his neck, the breeze from Hutch's lungs faintly rustling his chest hair with each exhalation as it wafted over his clavicle and tickled his muscular pecs.

Their arms and legs were wrapped around each other like pretzels made by children. Elbows knees and feet jutting at weird but loving angles, as the rest of their bodies melted together like statues being reshaped by the torch of an invisible welder.

Hutch stirred when Starsky impulsively kissed the tip of his nose.

Starsky chuckled silently as he watched Hutch's face wrinkle and twitch. He looked annoyed but curious at the same time. Like a cat without whiskers sensing something he could almost smell…

Blinking and scowling as his eyes reluctantly focused in the evaporating darkness, Hutch smiled as soon as Starsky kissed him good morning; their lips meeting in the gentlest of hellos as they greeted the new day--and each other--with awed reverence.

"Mornin' Sunshine," Starsky murmured.

"Hi yourself, Day Maker."

Hutch's smile was as radiant as the sunrise; Starsky's a luminous as the moon that was setting outside the windows of his treehouse.

Blue eyes reveling in the love they shared, their lips met joyously and parted simultaneously so they could celebrate their love with a long tantalizing kiss that left them both breathless and grateful.

Hearts soaring, they smiled at each other again. Starsky and Hutch laughed lustily as their hands roamed each other's body. Sensual as wild cats mating languorously, the partners yawned, flexed their muscles and caressed each other appreciatively as they basked in the solitude and the rapport they had with each other.

One look at those gleaming sapphire eyes and Hutch knew Starsky was up to something. Starsky was not an early riser but his cock was up early and ready to play. Caressing his favorite plaything, Hutch kissed his sultry lover passionately before he crowed like a rooster.

Fondling Starsky capriciously, Hutch admired his lover's length and girth, savoring the heft of Starsky's cock in his hand as he beguiled Starsky with an mischievous grin and said, "Cock-a-Doodle-Doo!"

"Don't you mean Cock-a-Diddle-Doo," Starsky quipped, chuckling lasciviously as captured his partner’s stallion-sized cock in his hand and diddled it too.

"Just call me, Yo Diddley," Hutch sassed, laughing at his own joke as Starsky chortled too.

Hutch usually woke up happy and he always woke up frisky. Hutch enjoyed making love in the morning, so Starsky knew he would have no trouble seducing his horny partner. Hutch was already sporting a morning erection of massive proportions. Just seeing it made his own cock want to keep up with Hutch's arousal.

"Happy Fourth of July, Babe. Want me to ring your Liberty Bell?" Starsky said.

Giggling raucously Hutch said, "They're already ringing, Starsk. Can't you hear them?"

"Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!" Starsky sing-songed as he outrageously played with his partners cock and balls. "I said bell not balls, Hutch."

"Oh…THAT!" Hutch mocked him, feigning innocence as he rolled over.

It never took long for Hutch to start singing after he woke up but it was usually Starsky who took the lyrics to known songs and made up his own version of the lyrics to make his partner laugh. Today however, Hutch beat him to it. Instead of singing: "This land is your land! This land is my land! From California to the New York Island!"--Hutch rolled over onto his stomach singing: "This crack is your crack! This crack is your crack! From California to the New York Island…"

Starsky was laughing so hard by the time Hutch said 'New York' the tough cop from Brooklyn had tears of joy in his eyes.

Still giggling, Starsky slapped Hutch on the ass and said, "You're insane, Hutchinson. Ya know that don'tcha?"

"Yep. Your enthusiasm is contagious, Starsk. Thanks for infecting me."

Yanking open the drawer of the night stand beside Starsky's bed--as Starsky lick-kissed his way down his back to his butt--Hutch found a tube of lube and tossed it over his shoulder.

The tube bounced off Starsky's ass and landed on the mattress.

Giggling as he nuzzled the scar on Hutch's lower back, Starsky said, "Two points! You hit my ass."

"Always enjoy doing that," Hutch murmured, as he reached a hand behind himself and tousled warm wayward curls before Starsky nipped his butt cheek and moved to get the lube.

As soon as Starsky parted the crack of his ass Hutch started thinking about the crack in the Liberty Bell and started giggling again.

"What's so funny, Blintz? This is not one of your ticklish spots," Starsky said, as he sensuously stroked the tender skin between Hutch's ass cheeks, making his partner shiver as his starry little anus clenched in anticipation.

"You crack me up," Hutch quipped.

It was a corny joke but it made Starsky laugh too. Gently slipping his lube slicked fingers into Hutch's nether passage, Starsky said, "And now I'm up your crack."

Groaning even as he laughed, Hutch's heart soared as sexual pleasure merged with humor to make him feel sublime.

"Not yet, Romeo. But you will be soon. Very soon…" Hutch groaned ecstatically, body arching up like a leaping dolphin as Starsky found the pleasure spot within him and tantalized it.

Hutch was undulating from head to toe so wantonly, Starsky couldn't wait to pleasure his greedy lover. Hutch was already wriggling his hips in that 'come and get me' manner he found so irresistible. He tried to extract his fingers in a way that wouldn't make Hutch yowl with dismay but he'd turned his Viking lover on so much-so fast Hutch barely felt coherent. 

Dazed with desire, Hutch called out Starsky's name like he was drowning in lust.  
"Starsky!"

The only thing that could save Hutch's sanity at a moment like that was to throw him a lifeline his heart could cling to, so Starsky grabbed his lovers gyrating hips and abruptly impaled Hutch with just the flared tip of his arrowhead shaped glans.

Hutch loved to be corked. The sounds Hutch made thrilled Starsky. Hutch savored the sensations with every nuance of his being; his body reveling in the joining of their yearning bodies.

Starsky couldn't resist the lust Hutch ignited in his heart. As soon as Hutch pushed backwards--demanding more--Starsky surged forward, impatiently eager to grant Hutch's every wish.

"You want it bad don't you?" Starsky reveled; heart soaring too as he thrust jubilantly into the man bucking like a bronco beneath him.

"Yes!” Hutch gasped, wanting nothing more than to be ridden hard and put up wet.

"Think you can take it?" Starsky taunted.

"Every inch of it," Hutch vowed.

So Starsky called his bluff and stopped thrusting. Bracing himself on both arms like he was doing an erotic push up; his cock just half-embedded in Hutch at that moment, Starsky held himself as still as he could on rigid, quaking arms and said: "Then do it!"

Impaling himself voluptuously on Starsky's thick hard cock, Hutch groaned as triumphantly and as wantonly as Starsky did when Starsky's pubic hair tickled Ken’s ass when they were completely joined. 

Hutch loved how it felt to have his ass nestled in the curve between Starsky's belly and balls. Velvet steel coring him like an apple while that firm, loving hand incessantly stroked his cock and drove him wild.

Skewered, his balls slamming against Starsky's, the erotic reverberations oscillated through his body like a bell that had just been rung. But the best was yet to come!

"Mine!" Starsky proclaimed triumphantly once their bodies were fully joined and his hand was wrapped around Hutch's cock.

"Always,” Hutch rejoiced; the breathless vow pleasing his possessive love immensely.

The smile Hutch heard in Starsky's voice was felt as soon as Starsky's lips nuzzled his sweaty neck.

Starsky loved to draw figure eights with the tip of his tongue around the twin moles on the right side of Hutch's neck. The sensation made Hutch half crazy when that's all Starsky did, but it caused a sexual overload every time Starsky did that when their bodies were joined. Especially when those ever-busy fingers were fondling his balls at the same time.

Hutch was so turned on, and blissed out, he was banging his forehead into the mattress like a ram fighting another ram each time Starsky exultantly thrust his cock as deep as he wanted it to go.

The slow, voluptuous thrusts drove Hutch closer and closer to orgasm. Like his body was a Strongman game at a summer carnival and Starsky was using his cock as the hammer that would send the shuttle up to ring the bell at the top of the post.

Each time Starsky nailed his prostate with the head of his cock, Hutch flew towards the bell of orgasm and tried to ring it, but Starsky's fist would throttle his cock as he said, "Not yet."

At first those words were gasped as an erotic taunt. A promise of more pleasure to come that was delivered with ball-breaking finesse. 

Starsky wanted to come with him, not after him. And he made Hutch want that badly too, Hutch would have done anything to please the man who was ravishing him into altered state of consciousness.

Only Starsky could love him with a passion that transcended reason. Only Starsky could make his heart soar and his body quake. Only Starsky could drive him to the brink of orgasm and make him hover there indefinitely--until he was damn good and ready to push them both over the summit of passion's peak.

When they fell it was like cliff diving into a waterfall. Head first, plummeting fast. The sensations of orgasm fused their hearts together in ecstasy. Pleasure made them explode like twin suns going nova at the same time. 

By the time they collapsed in a tangled heap on the drenched sheets they felt so sated and complete their bodies stayed coupled even after they fell back to sleep.

****************************************************************************************************  
Wakened by the alarm a little bit later they chuckled as they listened to Peaches & Herb sing: "Shake your groove thing! Shake your groove thing! Yeah, yeah!" on Starsky's clock radio.

"If I shake my groove thing right now, it would probably fall off and take your cock right along with it," Hutch quipped.

"Then don't move," Starsky murmured, as he chuckled and nuzzled his partner's salty neck.

Gently extracting his sated cock from Hutch's tight nether orifice, they both learned anew the truth of those words about parting being sweet sorrow.

Hutch felt bereft before Starsky's cock had even left his body, so he immediately turned over and wrapped his hand around the penis that had just given him such sublime pleasure.

"Mine," Hutch said, making Starsky smile when he saw the covetous gleam in those sparkling blue eyes. 

Hutch's eyes were an incredibly clear shade of blue. Like a mountain lake on a day when there were no clouds in the sky.

"Yours," Starsky assured Hutch with a devoted kiss. "Only yours."

The loving promise made Hutch smile, and it made him relax.

"Don't want anyone else. Don't need anyone else," Starsky murmured drowsily as Hutch nuzzled his neck with his lips as those strong, gentle hands plucked his chest hair in a way that made Starsky feel like a harp his blond angel was playing as they lolled around in bed denying the inevitable.

Pleased that Starsky was so satisfied, Hutch rolled on top of his ardent lover and straddled Starsky's muscular torso so he could kneel above him for a moment and run his fingers through the plentiful curls that were wildly disarrayed at the moment. All ten fingers reveling in Starsky's dark hair, Hutch savored his wild beauty's kiss-swollen lips, feeling blessed to be loved by someone so special and so heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

From head to toe, Starsky's hard chiseled body was wondrously formed. From the fleecy dark curls that covered Starsky's head in luxuriant waves--to the soles of those narrow, sexy feet-- Starsky was a feast for the eyes that Hutch never got tired of adoring with his cock or his hands.

They were in the middle of another slow, sensual kiss when Starsky's stomach decided to rumble loudly--reminding them both that they needed to get up, get dressed, eat something, and hit the streets.

Groaning into each other's mouths, they reluctantly ended the kiss by mutual agreement. Hutch gently caressed Starsky's stubbled face and tried to placate himself by reverently kissing the tiny mole imbedded in Starsky's left cheek. The tender, affectionate kiss made Starsky smile and it placated him, but Hutch was far from mollified. He sighed and said," I don't want to go to work today. I want to stay right here and make love all day."

"I know," Starsky murmured, as he rolled Hutch onto the mattress so they could twine their bodies together side-by-side and hug each other some more.

Soothing Hutch with kisses, Starsky said, "But if you do that you won't be able to enjoy the surprise I got for ya."

Marveling at how Starsky could look like a mischievous kid and a decadently sensual man at the same time, Hutch's chuckle turned into a groan as he hugged Starsky close and said, "Starsky! July 4th is not a present-giving holiday."

"It is now," Starsky proclaimed, smiling as he kissed Hutch, rolled backwards, flipped over, sat up, and eagerly fished Hutch's surprise out of the base of the other bedside nightstand where he'd hidden the gift.

Both nightstands contained a drawer with a cubicle beneath that opened via a small wooden door. As Starsky dangled over the edge of the bed, Hutch couldn't resist the urge to slap Dave’s luscious ass. Undeterred, his impetuous lover just giggled and opened the cubicle, extracting a shoebox-size package wrapped in colorful paper.

Hutch laughed as soon as he saw the size and shape of the box.

"You bought me shoes? What are they? Red, white and blue sneakers?"

"No. But that's an idea for next year if I can find 'em," Starsky replied happily.

Eagerly sitting up in the middle of Starsky's huge king size bed, Hutch crossed his legs, sat in a comfortable yoga position, and said, "Gimme!" because Starsky was a cheerful scamp who always gave him wonderful presents.

Laughing, Starsky's face was wreathed in a grin that made him look like adorable. Glowing like a Christmas tree, Starsky handed Hutch a package that was wrapped in Christmas paper. Hutch was just about to say, "Didn't have time to go to Hallmark, huh?" when he noticed that the Santa on the wrapping paper was not dressed in his usual Torino-colored fur suit. The chubby Santa was wearing a garish Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts, and a funky pair of sunglasses as he soaked up the summer rays in a deck chair on the beach.

The comical image of the Santa vacationing in Maui while the reindeer played volleyball with bikini-clad babes amused Hutch. It was a shame to tear the wrapping, but he HAD to know what was inside the package, because the only place in the world that would sell pseudo-pornographic Christmas In July wrapping paper would be Santa's Sex Shoppe!

Starsky loved to get dressed up in disguises and do holiday shopping there. He always came home with the most interesting things….

It wasn't the first time Starsky had given him a present for no reason in July that was wrapped in Christmas paper. Starsky tried, but he often couldn't wait until Christmas to give Hutch something he'd bought for him. So Hutch would occasionally get an early Christmas gift in September or an early birthday gift in May.

Hutch took his time unwrapping the gift, so he wouldn't tear the paper too much. Dawdling like that made Starsky crazy! His partner was practically bouncing up and down on the bed like he had a spring in his butt. When Starsky got impatient like that he reminded Hutch of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh.

Sitting cross-legged, knees touching, in the middle of the rumpled black silk sheets, Starsky and Hutch faced each other, smiling expectantly.

"Open it! Open it!" Starsky insisted, his impatience making Hutch chuckle.

"I'm trying to guess what it is!" Hutch scolded him as he gave the box a little shake again.

If the contents had been breakable, Starsky would have told him not to do that, so it wasn't one of those lewd statues made of hand-blown glass that he was admiring the last time they both got dressed up in costumes and went shopping at Santa's Sex Shoppe together. The artist, Phuc Sinh was very talented and he had a vivid imagination. His glass figurines copulated with each other licentiously but with extraordinary grace.

Starsky could read his mind in a glance, interpreting the expression on his face like his features were tattooed with Morse code.

"It's not from Phuc's Kama Sutra series," Starsky told him. "It's something we can play with while we're on duty today."

Hutch froze and blushed in the middle of unwrapping his gift. 

"Bringing sex toys on a stakeout. I don't know about that, Starsky…"

"What's to know? It's called life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness," Starsky scolded Hutch with a rakish grin on his handsome face. "Open your present."

Hutch couldn't resist Starsky when his voice took on that low sultry tone that was almost as sultry as his partner’s smoldering features.

Mesmerized by those gleaming indigo-blue eyes, Hutch finished unwrapping his present without taking his eyes off his grinning lover. When he looked down at the surprise he held in his hands, Hutch threw back his head and howled with laughter.

In a very patriotic looking red, white and blue box was an anal plug that was shaped like a penis at the top and a rocket at the back. It even had a screw-on cap adorned with plastic flames shooting out the castrated end of the fake penis. The damn thing looked like it was a rocket in mid-flight.

Hutch thought it was a novelty gift at first then he noticed the words: AA batteries not included printed on the box.

The photograph on the box did not have wheels, so it wasn't a remote controlled car shaped like a sex toy. According to the words on the front of the box, it was a sex toy designed to give a man 'the ultimate carnal high in clandestine pleasure.'

Opening the box so he could see the item not the photograph, Hutch blushed to the roots of his fair hair. There was a remote control gizmo inside the box. It was small enough to hide in the pocket of Starsky's jacket. It was activated when you pressed either the tiny red button or the tiny blue button. When either button was pressed, a transmitter inside remote control unit would emit a radio signal that would be sent to a receiving device inside the anal plug. When that happened, the signal would activate a mechanism that would turn the fake penis into a mini-vibrator!

Dong Wen's latest invention was called The Firecracker. It was as red as a white man's erect penis and the cap with the plastic flames twisted off so a rubber cap could be screwed onto it to make it more comfortable. Otherwise you would be sitting on the flames! The softer cap allowed the fake phallus to be safely inserted inside a man's ass like a cork in a wine bottle. Every time the vibrator was activated the sensation would 'give a man a carnal buzz that would last for hours', the brochure/instruction manual promised.

Laughing, the wide-eyed detective told his partner, "You're incorrigible!"

Raking his fingers through Hutch's silky blond hair, Starsky gave his handsome lover a sizzling kiss before he looked at Hutch with covetous eyes and said, "Wear this AND your red, white and blue plaid shirt for me." Kissing Hutch again, Starsky said, "I love the way you look in that shirt Hutch."

Chuckling bashfully Hutch said, "You love the way I look in any plaid shirt, Starsky. That's why you keep buying them for me."

Smiling, Starsky shrugged. "Can you blame me? You may not be Scottish but you look great in plaid tartans, Blintz.” Between kisses, Starsky promised, "One day, I'm gonna take your ass to Scotland…and I'm gonna buy it a kilt."

"In the Hutchinson tartan?” Hutch laughed in mid-kiss. "I’m not sure what it looks like.”

“You’re Scottish?” Starsky asked, surprised to learn that his Nordic blond friend had ancestors from Scotland too.

“That’s where the name Hutchinson comes from,” Hutch explained. Laughing as he warned Starsky, “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not making promises I can’t keep if you can’t stop laughing already,” Starsky said.

Hutch asked, “Remember Anna?”

Scowling, Starsky said, “The Russian ballerina. Yeah. Why?”

Hutch laughed because Starsky was acting jealous.

“Remember the odd way she pronounced the nickname you gave me?”

Starsky chuckled, mimicking Anna’s Russian accent surprisingly well. “Hooch,” Starsky said. “Like she was talking about booze, not you.”

“I didn’t get offended because the origin of the name Hutchinson comes from the word h-u-c-h which is Old Norse for the word ‘chest’: as in pirate’s chest.”

Hutch knew that would make Starsky smiled. Starsky had all kinds of fantasies featuring Ken Hutchinson as the Viking pirate-prince of his dreams. They had even acted a few of those fantasies out playing sex games.

“In Norwegian, h-u-c-h sounds like ‘hooch’ or the name Hugh depending on the accent of the person saying that word,” Hutch explained. “When Vikings invaded and conquered Scotland centuries ago the indigenous Celts had the custom of calling men ‘the son of’ whatever their father’s first name or profession was. Somehow the word ‘huch’ ended up with a ‘t’ in it when the Scots pronounced it and ‘Huchson’ became Hutchinson because when you married a member of my family you got lots of valuable stuff in one of those ‘huchs’ and lots of Scottish men wanted to marry women in our family and become a son of our clan.”

“I bet!” Starsky laughed. “Vikings raided and pillaged churches and manor houses and took all the gold, silver and jewels they found.”

“And lots of my ancestors were Viking pirates,” Hutch said. “Our family name is where the word ‘hutch’ ended up in the English language meaning a box that contains valuables or livestock. Our family name is also the origin of where the name Hugh comes from according to my Aunt Ingrid.”

“She should know,” Starsky said. “Ingrid has four college degrees and she’s considered an expert on the history, archaeology and folklore of Vikings. She’s the only relative of yours I like.”

“Me too,” Hutch laughed.

“She’ll know what the Hutchinson clan tartan looks like,” Starsky said. “I’ll call her when we finish our shift. I can’t let you run around Scotland with another clan’s tartan covering your ass. That’s got to be some kind of a jinx.”

“There's no Starsky clan tartan,” Hutch teased. “What are YOU going to wear when we vacation in Scotland?”

Shrugging blithely, Starsky decided, “I'll just buy a kilt in whatever tartan I like best." 

Totally smitten, Hutch gave Starsky a dreamy kiss and said, "You'd look sexy in any of them, Starsk."

Flattered, Starsky beguiled Hutch with a smoldering kiss and suggested, “ Let’s make a pact. We won't wear any underwear when we put on our kilts. That way I can grab your ass when we're in Aberdeen and you can fondle my balls when we're in Edinburgh. Deal?" 

"Deal," Hutch replied putting his hand in Starsky's extended one so they could shake on the pact.

Eyes gleaming wickedly, Starsky captivated Hutch with that devilish lopsided grin and said, "Then take a quick shower and meet me in the kitchen so we can lock and load this torpedo, Sailor." Starsky was already out of bed with the confiscated box in his hand by the time Hutch quit laughing.

Hutch had never served in the Navy or the Coast Guard, but he became a Sea Scout when he was growing up in Minnesota. Hutch came from a long line of Viking pirates who'd sailed the Seven Seas plundering and pillaging wherever they went, so 'Sailor' was one of many nicknames Starsky had given his Viking Pirate-Prince over the years.

"You Army guys are demented," Hutch teased his partner, grabbing a quick kiss on his way to grab a quick shower.

"You'll be singin' a different tune when you’re as hard as an Apollo rocket and your balls start beggin' your cock to soar towards the sky like it’s a guided missile, Blintz."

Fingers tangled in Starsky's curls, Hutch dawdled by giving Starsky another lingering kiss. A very naked--and very aroused--Ken Hutchinson said, " So the name of the love game we're playing today is what: Blast Off?"

Starsky chuckled devilishly and sighed, "Yeah…"

"You're insatiable!" Hutch murmured as he nuzzled Starsky's neck after they kissed each other breathless again.

"Crave you all the time," Starsky confessed.

"I know the feeling," Hutch murmured as took the box out of Starsky's hands and gently tossed it onto the bed. "That's why," Hutch said between kisses. "You are coming with me. Breakfast can wait. I want you naked and soapy with me in the shower NOW."

Starsky was hungry but he never passed up a chance to shower with Hutch! 

Hutch led him into the bathroom one kiss at a time. Backing up one step for each kiss until their bodies were naked and entwined in a fervent hug outside the curtained arena that was Starsky's tub.

"Let the games begin!" Hutch challenged Starsky enthusiastically as he turned on the taps and splashed his partner with the water that came roaring out of the faucet. "Last one in is a rotten egg!" Hutch yelled, jumping into the tub so fast his foot slipped on the wet surface.

Starsky grabbed him and caught him as he fell, preventing any injury.

"Klutz!" Starsky affectionately chided his partner as he climbed into the tub and pulled the privacy curtain around the area so the bathroom wouldn't flood with water as they cavorted in the shower.

"You're rotten," Hutch murmured as they kissed under the warm pounding spray.

"Spoiled rotten," Starsky sighed as grabbed a bottle of shampoo and handed it to Hutch saying, "Do me."

Chuckling, Hutch said, "Gladly." Then he popped up the lip of the cap with his thumb and squirted a generous amount of sandalwood scented shampoo into his palm. Starsky took the bottle out of his hand and put it back into the niche that formed a little shelf. Then he took out the other bottle of shampoo and squirted a small amount of vanilla musk shampoo into the palm of his hand.

Hutch's blond hair was thin, baby fine, and not as plentiful as his, so he only needed half the amount of shampoo required to wash his woolly locks.

Facing each other, they lovingly washed each other's hair between kisses. Hutch never got tired of running his fingers through Starsky's thick, soft curls. Starsky always looked enchanted every time Hutch laid his head in Dave’s lap when they relaxed on the couch watching TV. Starsky spent hours letting his luminous blond hair trickle through his fingers like grains of golden sand at random intervals.

Wet or dry, Starsky's hair was so thick and curly it never matted down much. The curls just seemed to shrink a little, like each strand of hair curled tighter to keep itself warm until it stopped raining on Starsky's head. When his hair dried, the wind would laugh through Starsky's curls like children playing tag. Starsky's curls were so thick the breeze would ripple his curls like a field of dark wheat in some alternate dimension.

Hutch loved to watch the soap bubbles get caught in Starsky's chest hair as they sluiced down his lover's muscular body. Water glistened on Starsky's dark curls like dew. Droplets clinging like tears that were reluctant to fall--because the man was so beautiful everything wanted to cling to him like those tight jeans he wore with such flair.

Holding Starsky close, Hutch let his soapy hands roam all over Starsky's back as he washed it. Hands dipping low to slide over that awesome ass, reveling in how wonderful those firm springy cheeks felt when he squeezed them, parted them, massaged them, and gently slapped them.

"Don't start something we don't have time to finish, Blintz."

"Later," Hutch vowed, wanting to ravish Starsky like Starsky had just ravished him.

"Much later," Starsky murmured, setting the tone for the day's festivities.  
Squeezing Hutch's ass possessively, Starsky said, "Today this ass is mine. You're not gonna get a piece of my ass until tomorrow."

"Wanna bet?" Hutch challenged him with a devilish grin.

All he had to do to make Starsky melt was push him back against the wall, kneel down before him, and avidly suck his cock. Hutch loved to suck Starsky's cock. He tried to kneel down in the tub so he could worship his horny satyr, but Starsky grabbed him by the hair and wouldn't let him venerate the cock he craved day and night.

"Wash, don't suck! We don't have time for that Hutch."

"Relax," Hutch crooned as he lathered his hands with soap and gently washed his lover's virile cock and succulent balls.

Starsky's cock turned a gorgeous shade of red when he was aroused. So red it almost looked like a flask full of wine when Starsky was on the brink of spontaneous orgasm.

"This won't take long," Hutch predicted, as he moved aside just long enough for the shower's spray to wash the soap away from the treasures he had found. Then, like the Viking he was, he plundered Starsky's family jewels with his ravenous mouth until he'd pillaged every drop of semen from the convulsing balls he fondled as he deep-throated Starsky's cock.

Smiling wantonly when he finally released Starsky, Hutch licked his sensual lips like a cat savoring cream.

On fire with lust, Starsky pulled Hutch to his feet so he could ravish the Viking mouth that just raided his body, stealing every sperm that was roiling inside him like pearls from a bed of oysters.

The taste of his essence on Hutch's tongue intoxicated Starsky. Drunk with desire, Starsky wanted to make love to his partner all day; but they had to go to work.

Damn! Starsky swore in the privacy of his own thoughts, even as he savored the thought of how he was going to torment Hutch all day and half the night. 

This shift was going to be a long one. Dobey had warned everybody that they'd all be pulling a double shift.

The thought of teasing Hutch mercilessly for 16 hours made Starsky grin like a Cheshire cat in mid-kiss.

"What?" Hutch asked warily. Hutch knew that look… He knew that wicked grin….

"I love the way I taste on your tongue," Starsky prevaricated.

Hutch knew that was true, but that was not the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help any god.

Stroking his partner's ever-ready cock, Hutch fondled his lusty lover and said, "Then give me another taste. You know you want to."

"Always," Starsky chuckled. "But give me time to recharge my batteries. I may be your love machine but my parts need some downtime to recalibrate."

Conceding with a wanton chuckle, Hutch kissed his delectable lover and said, "You're the one who got me hooked, Starsky. Don't blame me. Your kisses are addictive and I love to mainline that luscious cock. I'm your love junkie," Hutch murmured between kisses. "Gimme a fix," Hutch demanded mischievously.

Starsky gave him a long steamy kiss that made Hutch feel like they were dancing in the shower-- because their tongues twined so ecstatically their hearts started waltzing. "That oughta hold you until after breakfast," Starsky gloated as he turned off the shower.

"Depends on what we're having for breakfast," Hutch replied.

"I don't know about you," Starsky said as he pressed his partner's back against the nearest wall. "But I'm gonna have Hutchsicle for breakfast," Starsky said, as he dropped to his knees and avidly licked his partners long, hard cock like it was a popsicle.

"Hutchsicle!" Ken laughed raggedly; his laugh turning into an orgasmic groan when Starsky suddenly sucked his cock into his mouth and slowly let it go.  
"Starsky!" Hutch yowled plaintively, but Starsky ignored his pleas for mercy.

Starsky was determined to fuck Hutch raw before the day was done. Blondie was going to be achin' for him so much, Hutch would be waking him up in the middle of the night for a starlight romp for weeks to come.

A Fistful of Curls was Hutch's favorite home porn movie. They'd acted it out plenty of times when they were alone together. Once they even acted it out on camera in a stable when Hutch was wearing jeans and a cowboy hat and Starsky had met him in the tack room wearing nothing but a smile. Hutch didn't know the hidden cameras were there until after Starsky edited the films and spliced them together in his darkroom. 

Every time Hutch grabbed his hair like that Starsky knew what would happen next and his heart soared because he loved it when Hutch fucked his mouth with that huge demanding cock. 

Starsky loved how it leaped into his mouth like a dolphin. Hutch's cock was slick and hard; frisky and fun! Savoring Hutch's cock blissfully as it choked him and receded, choked him and receded; Starsky fisted what he couldn't swallow and devoured what he could.

I'm addicted to you too, Blintz, Starsky thought, breathless with excitement as he thought: Give it to me, Hutch!

They couldn't get enough of each other. And they made love all the time.  
It was the strangest thing. Starsky always felt satisfied after their couplings but MORE was all he craved. Hutch was right. They were hooked on each other.

So Starsky reeled in his big Sunfish; grabbing the root of Hutch's cock so he could suck his cum down like a milkshake. Hutch exploded in his mouth like a water balloon had burst! Copious amounts of hot frothy semen flooded Starsky's greedy mouth so fast he almost choked on it as he gulped it down.

Long after he was done, Starsky's Adam's Apple was still bobbing convulsively in his throat. Hutch laughed with delight when Starsky finally spoke. Hutch had fucked him hoarse. Starsky sounded like he was coming down with a cold when he nuzzled Hutch during a post-coital hug and he said, "You gave it to me good, Blintz."

Stroking his own cock lasciviously, Hutch slapped Starsky's ass with his free hand and said, "We aim to please."

"You always do Blond Beauty, " Starsky gloated as he gave Hutch's cock an affectionate pat on the head as he kissed his lover passionately. Blond Beauty was one of Starsky's favorite nicknames for Hutch and his cock. Slapping Hutch on the ass affectionately, Starsky said, "Now gallop that pony into the kitchen and let me saddle you up, partner. We gotta ride! It's getting' late."

Holding his cock out in front of him like a kid riding a stick horse, Hutch made cantering sound effect noises as he preceded Starsky into the kitchen with one arm raised, whooping like a rodeo cowboy as he twirled an imaginary lariat.  
"YEE HA!" Hutch shouted as he skidded to a halt in the kitchen and said, "Whoa, big fella…"

"That's an understatement," Starsky praised as he looked at the size of the cock nestled in his partner's hand.

Starsky had grabbed the box that contained Hutch's new sex toy off the bed as they passed. Grinning wickedly, Starsky said, "You hold that bronc steady while I find your bridle."

"Uh oh," Hutch groaned. "You're really going to do this, aren't you?"

Starsky looked incredulous when he said, "You thought I was bluffing?"

Speechless with anticipation, Hutch nodded once affirmatively.

"No wonder I always beat you when we play poker," Starsky murmured as he tenderly kissed the fair cheeks that were stubbled with one night's growth of the palest of blond peachfuzz. Teasing the soft prickly hairs with the tips of his fingers, Starsky smiled and called Hutch "Peaches" because he knew it would make Hutch blush an even more adorable shade of pink.

"Stay right there, Peaches. I'll be right back."

Patting Hutch's butt like it was the rump of a horse before he left, Starsky sauntered back into the bedroom for a moment. When he came back into the room he was holding a leather muzzle for Hutch's cock. The bid blond got weak in the knees when he saw it dangling from Starsky's fingers…

Hutch loved to play bondage and domination games with Starsky because Starsky was the only lover he'd ever had who could tame the lion inside of him. 

Strong, but never brutal, Starsky could master Hutch with a kiss and drive the defiant blond to his knees in abject submission.

"Please," Hutch begged, kneeling before Starsky like he was a sex god; nuzzling Starsky's hairy thighs with his beard stubble because he knew how much that turned Starsky on.

Tenderly caressing the silky blond head, Starsky smiled at Hutch and said, "Over here." Nodding towards the kitchen he gently pushed Hutch down until he was on all fours. 

Hutch eagerly crawled beside him in a brisk trotting fashion, almost prancing as he happily tossed that drying blond hair from side to side like a palomino's mane when Starsky' capriciously flicked his ass with the dangling leather straps that were attached to the muzzle like reins.

Chuckling, Starsky said, "Stand up, Happy Butt."

Hutch complied with a grin; kissing Starsky as he straightened.

"Okay, Red Knees, hand over that weinie you've been waggin'," Starsky teased.

Hutch turned to face him, proudly grasping the root of his cock again and showing it to Starsky like it was a flagpole that just popped out of a toy gun--one that should have had a flag dangling from it that said BANG!

Kissing Hutch as he chuckled, Starsky said, "Looks like you got a firecracker of your own there, Baby Blue. You gonna let me light your fuse?"

"What do you think?" Hutch murmured, his sexy voice giving Starsky goosebumps that made him shiver expectantly.

"Oh, yeah!" Starsky gloated, kissing Hutch before he carefully slipped the leather muzzle over the oozing tip of Hutch's uncircumcised cock.

Hutch's foreskin was very sensitive--and it was half retracted. Hutch moaned and wiggled as soon as Starsky touched him.

Pressing Hutch against the kitchen wall, Starsky kissed him and fondled him through the leather until the hood of Hutch's cock flared and retracted like the hood of a rearing cobra. Then and only then, did Starsky finishing snugging the velvet-lined leather cap of the muzzle over his partner's much loved and oft coveted cock.

Groaning orgasmically, Hutch writhed and moaned because Starsky's tender fingers were an exquisite torment that defied description.

"Shhh, Python," Starsky crooned, soothing Hutch with kisses as he stroked the cock that was longer than the Magnum-sized barrel of the Colt Python Hutch owned.

"Your cock's drooling venom like a snake with a fang ache, Hutch. You sure you can handle this? Want me to suck you off again first?"

"NO!" Hutch gasped.

Grabbing a fistful of Starsky's curls, Hutch yanked Starsky into a deep, demanding kiss that left Starsky so breathless by the time Hutch released him, he was seeing spots before his eyes like dark stars square dancing on his corneas.

"Make me hard and keep me hard," Hutch demanded through clenched teeth.

Kissing Hutch ravenously, Starsky said, "You're beyond my wildest dreams, Babe."

"I know the feeling," Hutch marveled, his fingers never leaving Starsky's curls as his lover eagerly knelt in front of him again. 

Gulping audibly, Hutch watched the leather muzzle slip over his cock like a cylindrical glove. His mind soaring and his balls aching as he watched Starsky patiently thread the leather laces through the slits cut into the leather until the criss-crossed tethers were able to be tugged so his cock was bound in a cylindrical leather corset that had been specially made for his penis.

Tight enough to hug every throbbing inch of his manhood, but not tight enough to bind him, the muzzle quickly became a chastity belt for men as soon as you put clothes on.

Starsky led Hutch back into the bedroom by the dangling straps of the cock muzzle. Hutch followed him as obediently as a dog on a leash and Starsky couldn't resist saying, "You like being my Slut Puppy, don't you?"

Waggling his butt capriciously Hutch said, "Who wouldn't?"

When Starsky's smiling eyes asked him to elaborate, Hutch smiled and said, "You give good head and great presents."

"I knew you'd like it," Starsky murmured as he kissed his captivated lover.

Tying Hutch to the doorknob of his bedroom like he was a palomino stallion he'd just bought at an auction, Starsky kissed his willing love slave and went to his closet to get some clothes for Hutch to wear.

Hutch laughed lustily when he saw Starsky emerge from his own closet holding the red, white and blue plaid shirt he wanted him to wear along with a pair of faded jeans that were one of Starsky's favorites.

"The denim jacket too?" Hutch objected. "It'll be 98 degrees in the shade today Starsky. I'll roast!'

"No you won't, ya big blond turkey. I wangled us one of the air-conditioned lairs. We'll be waiting for the gun runners to arrive in one of the offices that overlooks the construction site."

"How did you manage that?" Hutch asked as he watched Starsky drape his clothes over the bottom corner of the bed before he came over to untie him from the doorknob.

"I told Dobey he owed us for ruining our vacation plans."

"He owes us more than that," Hutch grumbled.

"He promised to bring each stakeout team one of Edith's apple pies," Starsky informed him.

"Nice, but not enough," Hutch said between kisses. "Not nearly enough," Hutch murmured as he stroked Starsky's burgeoning erection with loving hands.

"That's why I made contingency plans," Starsky said.

"So I see," Hutch praised, looking at the clothes Starsky had smuggled out of his closet and into his own somehow.

"Who raided my wardrobe and brought those here when I wasn't home?" Hutch asked his devious partner.

"Huggy."

Hutch laughed as Starsky knelt down before him again to help him get dressed.

"That's what I figured," Hutch said.

Starsky would never have asked Fifi to bring some of his clothes over to the Treehouse unless Hutch was convalescing there for some reason and Starsky dare not leave him.

"Huggy's always ready to help if the cause is love," Starsky said, repeating what their mutual friend had said on the phone when Starsky called to ask for his help.

"Did you tell him about the little surprise you bought me?" Hutch asked as he put his hands on Starsky's shoulders to keep himself balanced as Starsky dressed him.

"Nope. Rocket's our little secret," Starsky replied with an adorably naughty smile on his face.

"Rocket?" Hutch chuckled.

Starsky always named his toys--even his sex toys.

"As in 'rocket's red glare?' "

"Yep," Starsky said, as he dropped the jeans and let them puddle at Hutch's feet while he fondled his partner's balls. "Because it's guaranteed to make these cherry bombs feel like they are bursting in mid-air when I give you a zap."

The way Starsky's eyes sparkled when he said the word 'zap' made Hutch laugh because he knew that look. 

"Which is why you really bought the damn thing. Admit it," Hutch teased, caressing his lover’s adoring face as Starsky looked up at him like he was kneeling at the feet of a Nordic god.

Starsky got a big charge out of calling him Thor, because that was the name of the Norse god of thunder and lightning. 

Hutch had always possessed a disposition that was as tempestuous as a summer storm. Calm and clear one minute--stormy the next. Starsky was the only person he'd ever met who found that aspect of his personality appealing rather than appalling. Ken’s parents had always considered his moodiness a deplorable lack of control and constantly berated him for his outbursts.

Starsky had a fiery temper himself, so he let Hutch rage, fume or bluster until he got it out of his system. Hutch did the same when Starsky got angry. It was part of the bond they shared. One of the many ways their bond had been forged over the years.

"The idea of zapping 'Thor' with a little bolt of electricity turned you on, you pervert. Admit it!" Hutch teased as Starsky blushed.

Caressing Hutch's ass with tender hands, Starsky kissed the muscular thighs that were covered with soft downy hair and said, "It won't hurt you Hutch. It's supposed to make you feel tingly all over."

Grabbing the tail of the red, white and blue plaid shirt, Starsky yanked it off the bed and stood up. Kissing Hutch all over as he stepped behind his handsome lover, Starsky nipped his partner's shoulders and his earlobes before he covered his back with kisses as he slipped the long sleeved shirt over Hutch's bulging biceps. 

"Too sexy," Starsky purred, as he kissed the satiny smooth skin on Hutch's chest and briefly sucked the tiny distended nipples.

Fingers clenching ecstatically in Starsky's curls, Hutch writhed and groaned plaintively as Starsky seductively wrapped the leather straps dangling from the cock muzzle around his waist after he slipped them through the golden ring that secretly pierced Hutch's navel.

Hutch had an inordinately large belly button that had always fascinated Starsky. It was as large and as round as the face of a woman's watch and Starsky loved to tease that sensitive flesh with his teeth and his tongue, because Hutch was very ticklish there and Hutch's laugh was like music to Starsky's ears.

One night, when they were very horny, Starsky handcuffed Hutch to his big brass bed at Venice Place. After he'd tormented his lover into submission with sex and kisses, Starsky picked up the phone and invited a mutual lady friend they frequently bedded and shared to come over and pierce Hutch's navel.

Happy to oblige, because they always fucked her senseless when she participated in one of their love games, Miranda hurried over to Venice Place with her piercing paraphernalia and punctured Hutch's navel.

The temporary ring Hutch had worn had been silver. As soon as he was able to put in a permanent ring, Starsky had bought Hutch one that was 24 carat gold. Starsky frequently bought Hutch little charms to dangle from it, because his belly button was so large and so round, the little charms looked like they were framed by a backdrop of puckered golden flesh. Starsky thought that was incredibly erotic. So he started getting more and more inventive with the things he had custom made to dangle from that belly button ring. 

Whenever Hutch lost a bet, or a game of strip poker, Starsky made him pay up by playing a love game he'd invented called Mercy. Hutch loved to play Mercy because he liked being tantalized.

Starsky would cuff his hands behind his back and make Hutch walk around the apartment naked with something dangling from that belly button ring that would drive him crazy with longing.

Soft feathers were Hutch's favorite thing to have dangling from that piercing like an Indian Dreamcatcher. Strings of tiny seed beads also made Hutch squirm as they brushed against his cock like the invisible fingers of demons, making him hard and horny until he begged for mercy. 

Today they were playing Mercy AND Dragon Tamer at the same time--with a new twist. Adding their new toy Rocket to the game created a new love game Hutch had already dubbed Blast Off!

Tethering Hutch's semi-erect cock to his navel ring would keep it aroused indefinitely because it was trapped in the little leather straight jacket that made Hutch half crazy. 

Hutch felt totally subjugated and deliriously in love when Starsky fondled his balls and said, "Want me to warm your buns up first before I slip Rocket into your gantry?"

"Yes!" Hutch pleaded breathlessly. "You're reading my mind!"

Starsky didn't have to be a telepath to do that. Hutch always clenched the muscles of his ass plaintively when he wanted more than a mere caress. As soon as Starsky felt those Spank Me! contractions under his palms, he knew Hutch was definitely in the mood to be rode hard and put up wet today. The Fuck Me! tongue in his mouth confirmed his suspicions.

So Starsky buttoned up the red, white and blue shirt he liked so much and pulled up Hutch's jeans so he could tuck his tethered cock into the denim prison.

"Mmm…" Hutch groaned, wriggling wantonly as he as he savored every touch and every kiss.

At first he'd been hoping that Starsky would toss him over his knee and spank his bare bottom, but Starsky had something more stimulating in mind.

"Spread em'!" Starsky barked like a drill sergeant when grabbed a ping pong paddle out of the top right hand drawer of his dresser.

Hutch threw himself forward onto the dresser like he'd been ordered to do a series of standing push-ups. Legs spread wide, Hutch thrust his ass towards Starsky with such enthusiasm, Starsky could see the bulge of his partners balls through the tight faded denim.

Seven swats was all it took to drive Hutch to his knees moaning in ecstasy.

Protected by the sturdy denim fabric, Hutch felt the flirtatious swats through a barrier that left his nether cheeks throbbing but not scorched; warmed by the love of a man who thought sex should be an adult's excuse to play Pretend.

Forehead still pressed to the floor like he was doing some kind of erotic yoga, Hutch undulated under Starsky's hand as Starsky knelt beside him and caressed his gyrating backside.

"Fuck me!" Hutch pleaded raggedly, but they were rapidly running out of time.

"Wish I could, Baby Blue, but Dobey'll fire us if we're late getting to that stakeout."

"SO?" Hutch thundered. "I want….!" Hutch ranted, but Starsky subdued him with a kiss.

"I know what you want," Starsky murmured. "So I'm gonna give you what you need."

Peeling the jeans off his partner’s squirming hips, Starsky spanked Hutch's naked ass with a flurry of tantalizing love slaps. Starsky brought Hutch to the brink of orgasm and let him hang there--clinging to passion's precipice with his fingernails as he clawed the carpet.

Listening to Hutch curse like a drunken sailor, Starsky wantonly massaged his partner's tight nether passage with loving, lube-slick fingers. 

When Hutch's anus was sufficiently dilated, Starsky gently inserted the penis-shaped anal plug into Hutch like it was a love torpedo, leaving the plastic flames attached to the back of it for a moment because it was impossible to resist pulling an amusing prank like that. 

He was laughing even before he pushed the little red button labeled JOLT. Unprepared for the sudden burst of sensation, Hutch DID feel like he'd been zapped by one of Zeus' lightning bolts! A lightning bolt covered in fur.

The sensation made Hutch sprint across the room like he'd heard a starter's pistol. Yowling, Hutch groaned like a lion having an orgasm as he ran straight into the far wall and bounced off the rug Starsky used as a wall hanging. Grabbing the rug for support, Hutch accidentally ripped it off the wall when every muscle in his body contracted in ecstasy. 

Hutch crumpled like a sack of grain with a hole in it. Sliding to the floor belly first, Hutch had such a blissfully surprised expression on his face, Starsky had to laugh at his blond Aladdin as he tenderly stroked his shining hair.

"Wow!" Hutch praised, marveling at the sensations that were making his body twitch even though the initial stimulus had ceased. 

"Talk about a magic carpet ride," Hutch babbled. "I feel like I could fly!" Hutch said as he clung to the edges of the carpet, his imagination soaring as high as his heart was soaring at the moment.

"Well, don't turn over Peter Pan or I'm gonna have to take you to a proctologist real quick," Starsky warned him as he caressed Hutch's back under the plaid shirt.

Hutch laughed when he belatedly remembered that plastic flames were still shooting out of his ass at the moment.

Nibbling on Hutch's ear and then his shoulder, Starsky worked his way down the tartan-clad back until he could nip the tasty buns he'd just warmed. Hands trembling, because he was still laughing himself, Starsky carefully unscrewed the plastic frames from the castrated end of the fake penis. Then he carefully screwed the rubber-coated cap onto the exposed end until it was snug and smooth and ready to be transfixed.

"Ready for me to batten down your hatch, Sailor?"

Laughing, Hutch said, "Why not!" with wanton enthusiasm.

So Starsky grabbed the only strap of the cock muzzle that wasn't attached to anything at the moment and pulled it out of Hutch's pants leg with innate sensuality that made Hutch shiver.

Starsky pulled it out so slowly it slithered against his inner thigh like a leather snake was hiding in his jeans.

Straddling Hutch from behind, longing to fuck him with his rock-hard cock, Starsky resisted the temptation to ravish his partner again. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to rein in his rampaging desire so they could get to work on time.

The butt strap that was attached to the cock muzzle was wider than the laces. It had to be because there was a slit cut into the strap so Starsky could pop Hutch's scrotum into it.

Now his testicles were tethered too!

"You are so sexy," Starsky groaned when Hutch moaned and squirmed in delight.

Kissing the scar at the base of Hutch's back, Starsky tenderly parted the cleft of his lover's ass and threaded the tapering strap between his butt cheeks before he pushed Rocket the rest of the way into Hutch's gantry. Once the anal plug was fully embedded, Starsky pulled the butt strap over his lover's spasming anus and wrapped the forked ends around his waist from behind. He tied those straps to the ring in Hutch's navel too so it would stay in place and keep Rocket from being expelled.

Groaning and writhing, Hutch said the word "YES!" like it was the only word he knew at the moment.

Just to make him wriggle on the carpet like a fish out of water, Starsky nibbled on his partner's warm pink buns. Savoring the firm muscular flesh with his lips and tongue Starsky made Hutch squirm. 

Hutch made the most erotic sounds Starsky had ever heard as he reveled in their love play.

By the time Starsky showed Hutch some mercy and helped the delirious blond to his feet, parts of Hutch's face looked like they were sunburned when in actuality they were rug-burned.

"We'll, tell Dobey you're suffering from heat stroke," Starsky murmured, chuckling as he hugged his unsteady partner.

Hutch was so turned on at the moment he could barely stand.

"You're face looks chafed and you're acting disoriented," Starsky said.

"You would be too if I was tormenting YOU like this!" Hutch verbally retaliated.

"Quit smiling like that," Starsky scolded his giddy partner. "You look loopy when you smile like that. Dobey'll think you are drunk."

"So?"

"So? I don't want to be stuck on a stakeout for 16 hours with anyone but you," Starsky said. 

Slapping Hutch on the ass after he tucked in the skewed plaid shirt and carefully zipped up the jeans again, Starsky couldn't resist saying, "Now straighten up and fly right!"

"Can't," Hutch murmured blissfully. "My cock's listing to the left."

"We'll tell Dobey you have an inner ear infection if he notices you staggering in that direction one too many times," Starsky assured him. "Inner ear infections throw off your balance sometimes."

"If I'm THAT sick, I should have stayed at home," Hutch said winsomely as he hugged his still-naked partner and gave Starsky a beguiling kiss.

"And YOU should have stayed home with me nursing me back to health," Hutch said between kisses. "Make me some Jewish penicillin," Hutch pleaded.

Laughing, Starsky said, "We'll, pick you up a can of Chicken and Stars soup on the way to work, Ham Bone."

Slipping his arms around Hutch's neck so they could kiss and hug a little bit more before they left the Treehouse, Starsky said, "You're not going to wriggle out of my net that fast, my Viking Pirate-Prince. I may not be the Viking sea goddess Ran, who can steer a ship with one hand while she scoops drowning sailors out of the sea with the net that's in her other hand. But I sure as Hell can drive the Torino left handed while I fondle you through those jeans with my right hand. You wanna miss out on something like THAT on the way to work?"

"No!"

"Then stick with me kid," Starsky said doing his best Humphrey Bogart impression. "I'll keep that cock hard as a billy club all day and fuck you through the floor repeatedly when we get home tonight."

Sealing his erotic promise with a blisteringly sensual kiss, Starsky gave his partner's ass another affectionate swat and said, "Now suck me off so I can wriggle into my jeans."

Bound and corked, Hutch dropped to his knees and sucked Starsky's cock ravenously until Starsky came exultantly in Ken’s greedy mouth.

Then, and only then, was Starsky able to wriggle his luscious body into those skin-tight jeans.

Hutch watched Starsky get dressed every day and still couldn't figure out how he managed to do that! The man was a sorcerer. It was the only logical explanation. Man was not made to fit into jeans that were one size too small and be able to run. One seam was all Starsky had split chasing a perp in all the years they'd been on the streets.

"You're marvelous," Hutch told his partner as they walked down the front steps of the Treehouse into a beautiful 4th of July morning.

"And you're mine," Starsky gloated as he pressed the other blue button labeled HUM that activated the vibrator inside the anal plug just as Hutch's backside hit the upholstery of the Torino. 

Starsky chuckled wickedly as he gallantly held the door open for his handsome partner.

Hutch tired to stifle the orgasmic yowl, but it flew out of his mouth like an operatic aria when the intense sensation of pleasure blossomed inside him like a sun going nova.

"Shh… Keep it down," Starsky scolded him. "You'll wake the neighbors."

"You should have thought of THAT before you pushed the detonator button, El Destructo. What are you trying to do--blow up my balls?"

Reminding Hutch of what they'd teased about upstairs, Starsky began singing the national anthem, changing the words a bit to serenade his handsome lover when he finally got in the Torino. "And the rocket's red glare, balls bursting in mid-air, gave proof to the niiiight--that our love was still there!" Starsky warbled.

Fingers tangling in Starsky's curls, Hutch kissed Starsky's freshly shaven face cheek as he said, ''Our love will always be there. Just Me and Thee, Partner. Always."

Starsky was still smiling when they reached the stop sign at the corner and Hutch suddenly realized, "I forgot to shave!"

 

The End :>


End file.
